WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?
by redpen88
Summary: The romantic comedy that never was, with Kurt as the Leading Lady.
1. The Wedding

AN : So I'm not so good with the words. Well, when writing borrowed characters anyway, so I'm really hoping for some positive feedback, because

I could use the confidence boost and

good reviews would mean I continue this 

Pairing(s) - Kurt/Sam, Kurt/Blaine, Finn/Rachel, Quinn/Puck  
Rating: K+ just to be safe  
Summary: My take on the Kum romantic comedy that never was but definitely shoulda been  
Disclaimer: I don't own glee, if i did, Kurt would be preggers with Sam's kid by now!  
Not beta-ed... but if anybody's interested, i'd be glad to let them

WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?  
chapter 1 

Kurt Hummel was kind of amazing. At least his fiancé certainly thought so.

Blaine could regale you with stories about how perfect his boy was for hours and hours on end but he refused to use the same old tired adjectives. Kurt was above and beyond all of that.

Kurt was a princess. A real-life, tangible, regal, picture-of-perfection, floats-doesn't-walk princess who deserved nothing but the absolute best and Blaine had meant every word when he proposed to Kurt under the stars on that beautiful night on the beach. He was willing and eager, with everything he had, to spend the rest of this lifetime trying to be Kurt's perfect man.

There would be no ifs in their marriage; whatever Kurt asked for, Kurt would receive. And nobody, _nobody, _would ever stand in the way of Blaine seeing Kurt's every wish fulfilled.

Oh, Blaine couldn't _wait _to start his life with his beloved. He couldn't wait to be the father of their children, to be the be all and end all of Kurt's life, to grow old with the boy. It would be his greatest achievement. Theirs' would be a love story for the ages.

He was so lost in his musings that he had missed entirely when the harp began to play. It wasn't until he saw Kurt enter on Finn's arm that he even knew it was time. But he had never been one to miss a beat, and he had had a beaming smile _tailored especially _for just this moment. They didn't call him McCreamy for nothing.

Kurt looked _resplendent. _There simply was no other word for it.

The gorgeous suit he had been given courtesy of one of his favorite designers, Saint Laurent was sinfully bright and seemed to be shimmering even brighter than the chandelier above. With white gold threadwork on the lapels and elegantly complicated lace trimmings on the sleeves of the shirt under the white suit only served to make his princess look even more pristine and perfectly put together than he usually did, and _that _was saying a lot. Even the magnolia's clutched in his hand paled in comparison.

With a sense of urgency, the good doctor chanced a look at his colleagues; they were all staring at Kurt with their jaws on the floor. Pat was seething it seemed. Not only had Kurt managed to ensure Blaine's life-long devotion with his wicked smile and atrociously shrill voice, he had the nerve to look like _that._

And after she had spent three-hundred dollars on getting her hair to look perfect so that all eyes would be on _her _even though it was Kurt's big day.

It showed too, Blaine thought, which was kinda pathetic. Because, _really, _one should always know better than to try and upstage his princess.

And happened also to make Blaine turn up the wattage.

He was the luckiest bastard on the planet.

Of course, Rachel, Finn's girlfriend of six years and Kurt's bridesmaid, looked jealous but that was to be expected. Blaine had a feeling she'd put up a good fight for the bouquet later.

His best men were staring at Kurt too, wantonly even. They all wanted what he had and that made him happy.

Ah! Life was good. And damn if it wasn't just about to get better.

Kurt was shivering just a little bit.

It wasn't that he was cold, Yves's boys had done a great job with the jacket. No, Kurt was just nervous. About a lot of things.

He was nervous about Finn blabbing to Rachel about his little _episode _earlier, he was worried his hair would fall out of place, he was nervous about stumbling on his vows up there and sounding like an idiot, he was scared he might have forgotten the vows altogether, dammit, why had he insisted on not carrying a copy with him, his memory wasn't all that great.

'Yes, it is,' a little voice said from somewhere deep inside, that sounded suspiciously like Mercedes. 'Your memory is fine, white boy, you go up on stage four times a week and sing in front of three hundred people, and you don't even need to warm up. This speech you've been practicing for a month now. How you think you gonna forget how it goes?'

Reassured, Kurt continued to walk idly thanking whoever the hell had picked this place. The aisle went on forever and gave a lot of time to think.

'I still think you're making a mistake,' the now-annoying voice said.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not asking you then, isn't it?" Kurt muttered to himself.

"Come again?" asked his brother.

"Oh, nothing," lied Kurt. "Just nervous, I guess."

Finn smiled. "Well you shouldn't be, you look beautiful bro. Dad would be so proud."

Kurt smiled and gripped his hand harder, suddenly missing their dad like never before. Wiping at his eyes as gently as he could without ruining his make-up, he smiled back at Finn.

"I'm really glad you're here, you know."

Finn smiled again. "Where else would I be?"

Kurt went back to counting steps in his head. He wondered if Blaine had noticed his boutonnière. The perfect gardenia had taken an entire morning to find. And then of course, it had wilted, because Rachel, the oaf, had plucked it too soon and forgotten to refrigerate it. Kurt suspected she might have done it on purpose. But that wasn't fair to Finn. So he quickly wiped the thought from his head.

His replacement flower was not perfect. Not even the least bit, if he was honest. But it was from his mom's tree. So maybe Blaine would appreciate it anyway, just like he did.

He looked up at his fiancé. Blaine was smiling like someone had spiked his drink with joker juice. But he looked impatient.

So much for noticing the gardenia. But before he could finish that train of thought, he had run out of aisle, the harpist had stopped playing, and he felt short of breath.

He looked at Mercedes, she gave him a thumbs up. He looked at his step-mom Carole, she had puffy eyes from all the crying, but was glowing with pride. He looked at Finn next to her. He had pecked him on the forehead and said to Blaine, "You better take care of him, man!" before taking his seat. He looked at Rachel, and she looked halfway between happy and constipated. Eurgh.

Anyway, Blaine looked bright as ever. And that should be all that mattered to him right?

Right?

And then before he knew it, Blaine was suddenly saying his vows. When had they even started the ceremony? Damn.

"Kurt," his fiancé began. "The day I met you was the day I was reborn. Your smile makes me feel like there's still good in the world. Like no matter how lost I am, I will find my way because this Jedi has his Princess to guide the way."

He just _had _to use that word, didn't he? Kurt sighed, hoping against hope that his smile hadn't faltered.

"And now, since my Spanish is rusty, I'm going to read the translation of one of my favorite verses from one of my favorite poems of all time and I hope that these words can make you understand how much I need you to survive, princess."

Kurt sighed again. He wasn't sure he could keep up this charade for long.

"You came to my life," Blaine began. "With what you were bringing" 

Pablo Neruda. He might have known.

"Made of light and bread and shadow I expected you,  
and like this I need you,  
Like this I love you," 

'Sure you do,' Kurt thought. He hoped he wouldn't regret this.

He hoped his daddy could forgive him.

"And to those who want to hear tomorrow," Blaine continued, his dapper face aglow.  
"That which I will not tell them, let them read it here,"

That was it. Kurt had to do this. He owed it to himself. So, he took a deep breath and steeled himself. It was now or never.  
"And let them back off today," no, Kurt didn't think they would.  
"Because it is early -,"

'No, it's not...'

"Blaine stop!"

And suddenly, the whole church was staring at him like he'd gone mad.

*TO BE CONTINUED*  
**

A/N 2:

SO WHAT DID YA'LL THINK?  
btw, the poem was AND BECAUSE LOVE BATTLES by Pablo Neruda  
aka Y PORQUE AMOR COMBATE  
also, please go easy on me if i've made any mistakes with the author tags or the AU tags or whatever the hell else there is


	2. Runaway Bride

AN : Kurt loves his step-mom Carole. And so do I =)

Reviews?

Pairing(s) - Kurt/Sam, Kurt/Blaine, Finn/Rachel, Quinn/Puck  
Rating: K+ just to be safe  
Summary: My take on the Kum romantic comedy that never was but definitely shoulda been  
Disclaimer: I don't own glee. But I'm working on a building a time-machine and making a billion dollars so that I can someday. What? It's a legitimate dream.

Not beta-ed... deal wif it.

WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?  
chapter 2

It had to be done.

It would be in the papers and the magazines first thing tomorrow morning but it _had _to be done. He should have done it sooner.

'Ya think?' inner-Mercedes said, before breaking out into an explanation as to _why_ it should have been done earlier. Kurt wished she would shut up… but she kinda had a point.

All of this mess and all of the bad publicity that was definitely on its way now could just as easily have been avoided. _Why _couldn't he have just said 'no' when Blaine asked for his hand? He hated having to break Blaine's heart; well, most of him did anyway, but dammit what choice did he have? He was just looking out for his future. It was an act of self-preservation. That was understandable, right? (Yeah, _that _explanation was sure to stop Blaine's mom's tirade). And it wasn't like he was being selfish either. Blaine kinda had it coming.

Really, the _least _he could have done was notice the _fucking _gardenia. How hard was it? Be compassionate. Be present. Be supportive. That was really all Kurt had ever wanted. He shouldn't even have had to ask for it in the first place! Right?

And then he had the nerve to act like the perfect boyfriend. Every time the fucking paparazzi chased them, Blaine would be all smiles for the camera. Like their relationship was so perfect. And the worst part was, Blaine didn't even realize what he was doing was wrong…

He actually believed he was being the perfect gentleman.

Kurt snorted.

Well, in retrospect, he probably _was_ being a gentleman the whole time but that's not the point.

How many times had Kurt asked the man to be a little more attentive? How many times had he asked him to not call him Princess? What part of "Only my dad ever called me that, so please respect that," _couldn't _he understand? He was a doctor for crying out loud. A bloody surgeon. Was he really _that _stupid? No… that wasn't the right word for him was it?

Smug.

Yeah. That worked.

The man could be _such _a smug jackass sometimes. Scratch that.

The man could be a smug jackass ALL THE TIME. A smug, holier-than-thou, self-absorbed jackass who acted like Kurt's addition to his family would be just another feather in his cap of awesome.

Well, what if Kurt didn't wanna be a stupid feather? Ever thought about that _Dr. Ass-Much McCreamy_?

Hmph.

It was the fucking _2010s_. Who even _said_ "Pretty Little Head" anymore?

Why, why couldn't he just take Kurt seriously?

Yes, he was a showman! Yes, his job wasn't as important as oh, I don't know, open heart surgery, but dammit, he was worth more than diamonds and Swiss chocolate. He liked being wined and dined, _sure._

But he wasn't only looking for designer clothes and jewelry in life. He was so much deeper than that. And anyway, newsflash Dr. Carver, Kurt Hummel earns more than enough and he can afford to buy _himself _Cartier _just fucking fine._

What he can't give himself, is a hug, when he's feeling lonely.

What he can't do for himself, is defend himself to his fiancé's crone of a _mother._

What he can't buy himself is a little understanding. How about some of _that, doctor?_

He took a deep breath. His phone was ringing again.

He wasn't surprised though, the damn thing had been ringing off the hook since he left the chapel.

He answered it. "What?"

It was Jerome, his agent.

"Oh thank God, you answered."

He rolled his eyes. "What is it, J?"

"What do you think you're doing? Running out of your own wedding like that? Do you have any idea what you've done? This is HUGE. It's gonna be _everywhere _tomorrow. I already got a call from the producers of The View, and Ryan Seacrest's camp has been pressing me for details. Irma says that all the tabloids have already started printing whatever shit they could stir."

"So, handle it," Kurt replied, annoyed.

"How am I supposed to just _handle _it? You left a man at the altar… this is big."

"You think I don't _know _that? Look, I don't know what you're gonna do about this and it's not my job to worry about it. I don't ask you how to do my job, do I? I've got, like a million little things on my mind right now that I don't know how to deal with and I could really use a little break from the added pressure of the media," Kurt sighed. "Please?"

"Well I suppose I could work the diva angle…" Jerome started.

"No," Kurt snapped. "No diva angle. Stop selling me like I'm some kind of spoiled brat. That's how I got into all this trouble in the first place," and with that, he disconnected the line.

It was the papers' fault. Just because he was an actor (granted, he was a singer too), they billed him as a divo; one who was always loud, always pretentious, always reckless and always got what he wanted.

Yes, he was an actor, but that didn't mean he was always dramatic.

He chuckled and looked at the steering wheel.

Point taken.

Oh, the irony that was his life.

But no, he wasn't always dramatic (present situation aside). He didn't always get what he wanted and he didn't make a scene about it either, not usually anyway. And he wasn't loud.

On stage, yes. He was paid to be. But in real life, he always tried not to speak out of turn. If anything, he was demure.

Hell, if he wasn't, he would probably have given his fiancé (well, now ex-fiancé he supposed) a piece of his mind a long time ago.

Great.

Now he felt guilty.

Maybe it was his fault for letting Blaine think he was being an awesome boyfriend.

Dammit.

He swerved and stopped the Porsche on the side of the road, pressing both of his hands on the bridge of his nose.

He didn't deserve this. Not after everything he'd been through as a child.

God, how he hated feeling like a victim!

And now, he was crying. BRILLIANT!

He hadn't cried since his dad had passed away two years ago and now he was crying.

Over his own actions.

That made him feel like he was in the wrong. JUST BRILLIANT.

"I'm sorry daddy," he choked out. "I just—you probably hate me right now don't you?"

No answer.

"I thought so."

His phone rang again. It was Carole.

His hands trembling, he answered, "Hey, mom."

"Kurt, honey where are you? Your brother and I are worried sick."

"Mom, I -"

"Sweetheart, it's okay. You don't have to explain anything to me. No one will ask for answers I promise, just come back home baby."

"…"

"Kurt?"

A sniffle.

"Honey, say something."

Nothing.

"Do you need us to come pick you up?" she sighed, sounding distressed. "Let us be there for ya kiddo. Please! I'll make my famous snicker doodles."

That made him smile. Sure Carole may not have been his birth-mom. But the woman just _knew _him.

He sniffed again. Then shook his head, before realizing she couldn't see him. "Mom, I can't."

"Honey—"

"No, I know you guys are worried. But I can't come home right now. I just… I just need to work some stuff out. And um, maybe spend some time alone. "

"Well, where will you live? What'll you eat? Lord knows you don't eat enough."

"Don't worry, I'll get by. I'll uh… just.. just drive for a bit."

"Well, at least tell me where you're headed sweetie."

"I dunno."

"Do you need to take a vacation, just you and your books?"

The idea could have worked, except for the gaping hole in it.

The paparazzi would track him down and follow him to his destination wouldn't they?

That meant he'd need to keep a low profile.

"No, I—look mom, I gotta go okay? I'll eat right and I promise to call you soon. Try not to worry too much and tell Sadie and Finn and the others not to call me, please? I just really can't talk to anyone right now." He loved his friends but awesome as they were, they couldn't relieve his guilt. He needed some time by himself.

"Okay pumpkin! Make sure you eat right okay?"

"Yes mother," he smiled. "I love you."

"I love you too kiddo, and don't worry. I'll take care of the press."

"Thank you, bye."

"Bye sweetie."

The line went dead.

He should've just hired _her _to be his agent.

He sniggered at the thought and switched off his phone.

Looking around, he realized that he had left the city behind.

God, how long had he been driving?

He sighed.

Okay, well, time to get back out on the road.

With another sigh, he tried starting the car… to no avail. It was out of gas.

"Dammit."

The road looked empty for miles and miles.

"Now what?"

'Well, you _could _switch your phone back on and call for help,' inner-Sadie said.

"I think I'll take my chances with the open road."

Besides, it might do him some good to stretch his legs.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. Call the family, ask them to pick up the car, get out and start walking.

After he'd been walking for an hour, though? Not so much.

What the hell was he thinking?

'Easy, ya weren't,' Sadie had decided to be helpful again.

Urgh!

After another fifteen minutes, he saw a truck. And hoping against hope that the driver didn't know who he was, he decided to flag it down for a ride to the nearest bar. He was so thirsty, he'd settle for a beer.

*TO BE CONTINUED*  
**

A/N 2:

Guess who's in the truck 8D


	3. On The Road

AN : As promised, here's chapter 3. Now, halfway into writing this I realized that I have been referencing various scenes from various successful rom coms unconsciously and unintentionally, but I quite like how this is turning out, so now, I'm gonna make a conscious effort to do just that. What say?

We can even make a game out of it! Spot the references?

The Faux-Official poster for the fic is here ./5012/5428450121_22b7c27356_

COMMENTSPLZ?

Pairing(s) - Kurt/Sam, past Kurt/Blaine, Quinn/Puck, Finn/Rachel  
Rating: K+ just to be safe  
Summary: My take on the Kum romantic comedy that never was but definitely shoulda been  
Disclaimer: i don't own glee, there! You happy?  
Not beta-ed. Like a Boss.

WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?  
chapter 3

The truck took longer to arrive than he had hoped. Whoever was at the wheel was driving agonizingly slow. As if he (or she, to be fair, since Kurt couldn't tell either way) had seen Kurt's awkward attempt at trying to hitchhike and could tell from looking at him that he had been through hell (okay, so that might've been a little dramatic, but it's not like this was his proudest moment anyway).

When the truck did reach him however, it sped up, much to Kurt's chagrin. Especially since Kurt had tried to stand directly in front of it to get the driver's attention and was _this _close to being run over. Thank the lord he had dived when he had or he would have lost his life. Or worse, been crippled for what was left of it.

Kurt quickly got up and brushed himself off before yelling "ASSHOLE!" at the speeding truck.

That, of course, made it stop.

Kurt was scared for all of two seconds before his fury at almost being flattened returned, and, huffing, he began making his way toward the truck, which, curiously, was now moving in reverse and coming to meet him halfway.

When he got to it, the countertenor banged on the fire-engine red door on the passenger side (that happened to be shoulder-height, Kurtwise that is) fully prepared to scream bloody murder at whoever was on the inside and demand an explanation. He could really _use _the opportunity to bitchslap someone right about now.

The first thing he noticed when the door opened was the Mohawk, and he winced wondering how anyone could wear such an atrocious hairstyle with such apparent pride, if the smug grin on the Neanderthal's face was anything to go by.

Then, Kurt winced once again, wondering, _really _wondering, why he hadn't expected the driver's choice of coiffure, given the almost-generic nature of the entire situation; and promptly proceeded to gag a little in his mouth at the thought of falling in love with this poorly dressed (and obviously ill-behaved) Philistine.

Said Philistine just kept smirking at him with one eyebrow cocked, at least until Kurt managed to huff and say, "What's the big idea, coming at me like that? What the hell were you trying to do, kill me?"

"Heh. Sorry about that!" said the driver, although he didn't look sorry _at all. _Not even the least bit actually. "You're so sparkly I thought you were a vampire!"

Kurt just raised an eyebrow and gave him his best BITCH, PLEASE face. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Come _on, _little dude, that was funny shit. Least you could do is crack a smile."

"I see my assumption about your Philistinism was accurate," Kurt muttered.

"O-_kay, _so what the hell are you doing dressed like a fairy in these parts anyway? Are you, like, God or something?" Mohawk enquired, making Kurt snort disdainfully.

"That is none of your business and don't call me that!"

"What?"

"That. The thing you _just_ called me."

"God?"

"No, the other thing."

"Vampire?"

"No, after that!"

"Little dude?" The driver grinned.

Kurt seethed.

"You know just which word I'm referring to and if you call me that again I swear you'll regret ever having met me."

"So it's okay if I call you little dude then!" the driver smirked.

Kurt glared at him. "No, it really _isn't; _especially since you just tried to kill me."

"I said I was sorry, just that I got distracted, never seen a fa— " Kurt glared at him again.

"-a fancier suit before," the driver continued with a glance at him. "So, you gonna tell me why you're dressed like that?"

"No. I don't think that I will, thanks," Kurt poured as much venom into the sentence as he could.

The driver hummed.

"Well, you gettin' in Fancy? I don't got all day you know!"

"Fancy? REALLY?"

"Heh! It's either that or Little Dude," the driver stated. "Your call."

Kurt couldn't help the grin that cracked his face then, this Trogladyte apparently did have his charm.

"Well, lookie here, apparently she _can _smile."

And just like that, the charm was gone.

With another huff, Kurt got inside the truck with enough force to scare Mohawk and said, "Just shut up and drive!"

After he'd settled in, the driver extended his hand and said, "I'm Puck."

Kurt just turned to look at the proffered hand _very slowly _and said, "I'm not interested."

Kurt knew that he was being moody, what with staring grumpily out the window and all, and he didn't need anyone to tell him as much. So naturally, he was more than a little annoyed when Mohawk broke the silence about fifteen minutes into the ride to ask "So, where to, Sparkles?"

Kurt gulped. He didn't need to answer that. He _really _had no way of answering either, truth be told. He had been busy thinking about his father and his family and what he was putting them through. He had been going over the scene at the altar over and over in his head trying to justify his actions. How he had told Blaine just how infuriatingly unsupportive Kurt thought he was. About how it was so sad that this wasn't even the first time since the proposal that Kurt had contemplated calling it off. About his earlier attempt at escaping and about how Finn had intercepted and stopped him. About how Blaine wanted a trophy boy and Kurt just wasn't it.

He hadn't been rude, but he hadn't been kind either. He had told Blaine, in no uncertain terms; that he thought their marriage was a sham, since Blaine was emotionally absent and Kurt just couldn't live that lie any longer.

He had told Blaine he was tired of being portrayed as the mess in the relationship, and that he was tired of everyone thinking the doctor was _the perfect guy _when he _really _wasn't.

He had told Blaine how it was sad that even after everything they'd been through, Blaine never once realized what Kurt _really _needed of him; and sadder still, that he thought he did.

And with that, he had run out of the chapel, silently cursing whoever had chosen the place because the stupid aisle just wouldn't end and the invitees kept staring at him the entire time.

"Hello, Earth to Glitterrific, you with us?"

Belatedly, Kurt realized who was waving a palm in front of his face.

He quickly sat up straighter and tried (and failed), to _discreetly _wipe his tears.

"Dude, are you crying?" Puck asked. "Bro, I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I won't call ya names any more. I'll just stick to Little Dude. Just please don't cry."

Kurt gave a mirthless laugh and said, "I assure you, your asinine attempts at humor weren't what made me cry. So you don't need to worry."

Puck stared at him for a bit, before turning to look at the road.

Kurt sighed. Maybe he did owe this stranger something in the way of an explanation. He _had, _after all,been nice enough to pick him up_. _And it wasn't like he had made any homophobic slurs like Kurt had assumed he would.

Except trying to kill him, that is.

'Oh, wouldcha let it go? He wasn't trying to kill yer skinny ass,' Inner-Sadie piped up. 'Stop being such a drama-queen.'

Kurt huffed again.

Huh. He was doing that a lot lately.

"Look, you don't have to te-," Puck started; before Kurt cut him off.

"Thank you," he said, in a timid voice.

Puck quirked an eyebrow.

"Thank you, for picking me up. You didn't have to, but you did," Kurt said, looking sincerely at Puck. "I had been walking for quite a bit so I guess I owe you big for it."

Puck was quiet for a couple of seconds, probably surprised at his sudden humility.

"No problem, uh-"

"Kurt. My name is Kurt," he said, before cracking a grin. "But you can call me Little Dude."

They shared a laugh at that and Kurt suddenly felt very free and uninhibited because of this stranger.

"So, Kurt, ya gonna tell me why you're dressed like that?"

Kurt looked at him suspiciously.

"Why are you so curious about my attire?"

Puck shrugged. "No reason, just making conversation; since you won't tell me where we're going!"

Secretly, Puck also thought Kurt looked freaking hot in that glitter-tux, but he wasn't about to admit that. Besides, he had Quinn to think about.

The sound of Kurt's voice broke him out of his little reverie. "I honestly don't know where I want to go," it said. "I just know that I need to get away."

At Puck's quirked eyebrow, he clarified "I just ran out on my wedding."

Puck's mouth opened in an "Ah". Suddenly, the tears made sense to him.

"Was he a chump?" he enquired.

Kurt smirked. Of course, Puck would be able to guess his orientation. The man wasn't stupid, despite his silly quips.

"No, no," Kurt sighed. "He- he was a doctor. He _is _a doctor. A surgeon, actually."

Kurt looked out the window again.

"I guess we just weren't right for each other," he looked down dejectedly. "Well, I wasn't right for him anyway."

"Hey, hey," Puck cooed. "Don't go beating yourself up kid! He couldn'ta been all that great if you felt like you had to get away."

That made Kurt smile. Looking at Puck, he said "Thanks!"

They smiled at each other for a bit before the multiple frustrations of the day caught up with Kurt.

"Ugh, this is just the worst day ever," he said, irritated. "First my Gardenia wilts, then I have to go and run out of my own wedding and then my stupid car runs out of gas. What else could _possibly _go wrong?"

"Your car was being stolen," said Puck.

Kurt gasped. "What?"

"White Porsche right?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"It was being stripped for parts when I passed it about three miles back now," Puck elaborated.

"And you didn't do _anything?"_

"Hey, I have a deadline ya know! And what was I supposed to do? Those guys looked like they guns," Puck defended. "And there was like, seven of 'em."

Kurt started panicking.

"Oh no no no no no!" Kurt gasped for air. "That car was a gift from my father. We have to go back and try and find it or, or report it at the next Police Station, or, no… we need to head back. Yeah!"

He reached for the wheel. "Turn back, come one. We gotta turn back."

"Hey hey, what're you doing?" Puck held him at bay. "Would you relax? I was kidding."

Kurt looked at him sharply.

Puck put his free hand up in a gesture of honesty. "I swear it was joke. Your car looked fine when I passed it."

Kurt punched him then.

Pretty hard too.

"Ow! Motherf-" Puck growled. "What the hell was that for?"

Kurt just glared.

"Oh, right!"

"NEVER joke like that again," Kurt warned. "That car was a present from my dad."

"Alright, alright, chill."

Kurt huffed again, settling down.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm stuck with a jerk," Kurt sighed. "I repeat, WORST day ever!"

"You forgot almost getting killed!" Puck reminded him.

What started as a smirk quickly turned into a full-bellied laughter.

For Kurt, it felt good to laugh again… and he had Puck to thank for it, though he'd never admit it.

[chapter 3 end]


	4. Meet The Puckermans, sorta

AN : Spot the romantic-comedy ! Oh and btw, I know zilch about transformers!

Pairing(s) - Kurt/Sam, past Kurt/Blaine, Quinn/Puck, Finn/Rachel  
Rating: K+ just to be safe  
Summary: My take on the Kum romantic comedy that never was but definitely shoulda been  
Disclaimer: how much does plastic surgery cost? *wonders*  
Warnings: Derpy Quinn is derpy

He hadn't expected to have built such a rapport with the mohawked trucker in such a short time, but he wasn't complaining about it. Puck, oblivious to his celebrity status, had opened up quite a bit to Kurt and had voluntarily divulged a lot of information about his personal life to him; which felt weird to Kurt because he would never have pegged Puck as the talkative type.

The trucker, however, could not stop talking about his girlfriend Quinn and their baby girl Beth once they had breached the subject of love and how hard it was to find the right person.

There was such a level of emotion and pride in his voice as he spoke about them that Kurt felt, oddly, both at ease, and slightly jealous and a little bit bitter about the thought that maybe, _just maybe_, he could have had all of that with Blaine.

Knowing that he had chosen to walk out on what _could have _been the best thing that had ever happened to him was not an encouraging thought. Blaine would, after all, have kept him comfortable; and besides, who was Kurt to judge Blaine for his emotional absence? How much could one _possibly _expect of a heart surgeon? The man _did _after all have a lot on his mind, considering the fact that he had to save so many lives on a daily basis.

Halfway through talking about how anxious he had been while Quinn was in the delivery room, Puck noticed that Kurt had gone listless and his eyes were sparkling with unshed tears again.

Puck sighed. He should have known better than to talk about his girls in front of a runaway bride (well, technically, runaway groom… but, _come on! _Little Dude did _not _qualify in _that category. 'Hmmm,' Puck thought. 'Was that offensive?'_) and now he had gone and made Kurt cry. Again!

"I'm sorry kid," Puck murmured.

That broke Kurt out of his little trance. "Hmm?" he queried.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been yammering on about my girls," Puck said, eyes on the road. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Kurt gave him a sad smile and said, in an earnest voice, "Don't be. It's nice to see a grown man gush about his family."

"Whoa, dude! I _did not _'gush', alright?" Puck defended. "Puckzilla doesn't gush… and he doesn't _do _sentimental and shit."

"You keep telling yourself that, big guy," Kurt said.

Puck glared at him for all of two seconds before his gaze softened.

"You okay, though?" he asked.

"Yeah," Kurt smiled again. "I'll be fine. I have the world's manliest trucker keeping me company." The evil grin was back.

Puck deflated.

"I'll make you a deal," Kurt purred. "I won't tell anyone that big, butch, Noah Puckerman, hardworking trucker and all-around American stud isn't a big pile of cream on the inside…" Kurt paused ominously.

Puck was actually holding his breath, "_Well?_"

"…_if _you show me what your girls look like," Kurt finished with a winning smile.

Puck sighed. "I can't do that."

Kurt frowned. "Oh _come on, _you _must _have a picture of them somewhere inside this Optimus Prime wannabe!"

Puck raised one eyebrow.

"Did you just use a Transformers reference?" he said, more than a little surprised.

Kurt looked somewhere between offended and smug.

"Just because I'm gay, you _assumed _I don't know transformers?" Kurt asked pointedly.

Puck stayed silent.

Kurt sighed. "I used to watch it all the time with daddy as a kid. Father-son bonding time."

Puck sniggered. "You said _daddy!"_

Kurt huffed again (He _really _needed to learn to stop doing that). "Laugh all you want, I'm not ashamed of it."

Puck stopped laughing. "Hey…"

Kurt ignored him.

"HEY!"

Kurt turned around to scowl at him.

"I can't show you pictures of them, mainly because I forgot my wallet this morning and, before you ask, no; I don't have a camera-phone!" Puck clarified. "But I _can _take you to meet them."

Kurt was silent.

"_If_ you'dlike that, of course."

Kurt cracked a smile. "That works."

It was past six in the evening by the time they made it to the Puck's apartment building and his girlfriend Quinn Fabray, who had been anxious about his delayed arrival, was surprised to hear Puck say that they had a guest over the intercom.

So, while her boyfriend and this 'guest' ascended the stairs to their door, she began to wonder who it could possibly be and if whoever they were would be staying for dinner. It wasn't that there wasn't enough to eat; it was just that, well, she had gotten back pretty late from the school itself and hadn't had time to prepare anything fancy. Just plain old Mac & Cheese because her little girl had demanded it.

She hurriedly began to clean up around the living room; picking up any stray piece of paper that might be lying around, little Bethy's Dora The Explorer socks that their nanny Rita had obviously forgotten to attend to, and a condom wrapper that she would _kill _her boyfriend for having left it where Beth could easily have seen it.

She was just about done fluffing the couch cushions when there was a solid rap on the front door, followed by by six others.

"Coming," Quinn said, walking toward said door while fluffing out her hair.

She wasn't ready for the sight that greeted her.

There, at her front door, was her boyfriend, flanked by a man whom she had idolized since he had first gotten a recording contract at age thirteen (of course, back then, she hadn't known he was gay and had had the _biggest _crush on him), dressed in what was quite possibly a suit made of diamonds. Not surprising, really, considering his videos always depicted the most cutting edge clothes and each one was a bold statement in men's fashion. But the young woman could not stop staring at that suit. It was, just, so _shiny._

Now, Quinn Fabray was no fashion expert, but she _was _the trendiest girl in high school. So, if she had to guess based on the cut alone, she'd say the suit was either a Gaultier or a Saint Laurent.

That was when her boyfriend cleared his throat.

"Babe?" Puck said. "You gonna let us in or what?"

Quinn nodded stupidly and stood aside but it wasn't long before she could contain herself no longer, and once Kurt Hummel (_That's right. Kurt Freaking Hummel.) _had crossed over her threshold and stepped into her apartment, she started shrieking.

"You're Kurt Hummel," she squealed, absolutely giddy. "You are _Kurt Hummel_."

Panting, she stopped for a second, looking between the two men, before addressing Kurt once again. "Do you _know _who you are?"

She slapped Puck not-so-lightly in the chest, still excited and freaking out. "Puckerman, do you _know who this is?"_

Kurt looked happy and kinda creeped out, "You're know who I am!" he said, in a quivering voice.

Quinn screamed. "_OF COURSE, _I know who you are silly! You are Kurt _friggin' _Hummel."

"And you're in _my _living room. The girls are NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS." She breathed heavily.

"You okay there babe?" Puck raised an eyebrow.

Quinn nodded, vaguely. "Ohhh my God, I need to sit down."

As Quinn went to grab a seat and steady herself, Puck turned to Kurt.

"So," Puck said. "You famous or something?"

Before Kurt could answer though, Quinn had gotten back up and smacked Puck upside the head.

"_Of course_ he's famous dimwit! He has like seven albums out already, _four _of which have gone double-platinum in the US alone. He's been in tons of movies _and _on Broadway. He has like every entertainment award known to man and he was nominated again for an Academy Award this year," Quinn said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You _know _all this, I'm like, his biggest fan! Remember you asked me who the queen on the Vogue cover was like two years ago?"

Puck blushed and looked apologetically at Kurt, who just smiled at their interaction.

"He's like, one of only four men to have been on that cover in like, _ever. _He's the youngest guy to ever have like three number one singles back-to-back and don't even get me started on his fashion statements," Quinn continued.

Puck still looked like he was drawing a blank.

Quinn sighed. "You remember that movie _Struck By Lightning _that you liked so much?"

Realization dawned on Puck as he turned to look at Kurt, "Dude, you were totally in that movie!"

"He _wrote _that movie," Quinn supplied, looking irritated.

Puck's face was worth looking at, his mouth open in a perfect O.

"Now close your mouth before you start catching flies," Quinn huffed, as she went and greeted Kurt.

"Mr. Hummel, it is _such _an honor," Quinn began.

"Please," Kurt cut her off. "It's just Kurt. And I'm very glad to meet you. Puck has told me so much about you and little Beth that I feel like I know you guys already."

"Oh _gosh?_" Quinn turned to mock-glare at Puck. "What have you been saying _Puckerman."_

"Nice things only, I assure you," Kurt clarified quickly, "Actually, it was his constant gushing that made me want to meet you, I hope that's okay."

Quinn opened her mouth to say that it was more than just before Puck cut her off. "Hey, I WAS NOT gushing."

Quinn turned to look at him, a weird mix of adoring pity and incredulous exasperation on her face. "Do you even _know _what gushing means?"

Puck growled. "You watch your mouth woman."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Or what?"

Puck leaped at her saying "Or I'm gonna chew it off," before sweeping her up in a breathtaking kiss.

Kurt lowered his eyes out of politeness, smiling at the happy couple's antics.

After a few seconds, Quinn said, "Welcome to our humble abode Mr. Humm—Kurt. Please, make yourself at home."

Kurt smiled at her before Puck said, "Now go wash up for dinner before my girlfriend asks you to sign her tits."

Kurt was amazed at how much upper-body strength a small girl like Quinn could possess.


	5. The Trouble With Sam

AN : This is a filler until I can figure out what to do next… THANK U CHASING ASPIRATIONS U ARE THE BOMB!

Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed… hope u like this chapter too

Pairing(s) - Kurt/Sam, past Kurt/Blaine, Quinn/Puck, Finn/Rachel  
Rating: K+ just to be safe  
Summary: My take on the Kum romantic comedy that never was but definitely shoulda been  
Disclaimer: I wish I owned glee but sadly it is the other way around… I think I need professional help!  
Warnings: Ass!Sam… *shrugs* sorry :/

Kurt Hummel had barely managed to shut the bathroom door when Quinn _jumped _him, with a force that sent him staggering back into the Barcalounger (thank Christ Quinn hadn't managed to get rid of it yet or he'd have been on his ass right now). "Whoa, easy. _Easy," _he purred. "What's with the sudden enthusiasm?"

Quinn just hummed and planted a big wet one on him. It was clumsy at first and kinda awkward to tell the truth, but then it got better. And just when Puck had gotten into it and started kissing back with fervor, she pulled back. Go figure.

"Thank you," Quinn said sweetly, blushing crimson and looking shyly up at him. "I don't know how or where you found him, but thank you for bringing him to meet me."

Puck, finally getting it, smiled at his girlfriend who never failed to surprise him with her sudden bouts of timidness. Wait, was that even a word? Timidness? Timidity?

Puck shrugged, 'Whatever'.

Holding Quinn tighter to his chest he said, "You're welcome babe… anything for you."

Quinn snorted. "Please. Like that'll ever be true. But, since you brought me my favorite superstar, I hereby forgive you for forgetting my birthday."

Puck frowned, "Your birthday's not for another three months. And when have I _ever _forgotten it?"

Quinn just raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? We're really gonna do this? Um! Okay… how about LAST YEAR?"

Puck deflated. "But I totally remembered and got you a present."

"Four days _after _my actual birthday, sugar. And don't even _pretend _that was from you."

Puck gawped at her .

"Uh huh, yeah! I know all about your little _deal _with Sam," Quinn clarified.

Puck scowled, "That little twerp ratted me out!"

"Poor _baby,"_ Quinn clucked her tongue in mock-pity. "He's my brother Puckerman. He tells me everything. You should know better."

"But he's _my _best friend, man. And him telling you stuff I told him is just," Puck whined. "Not cool."

"Aw, baby," Quinn cooed. "It's okay. You're forgiven right? So it doesn't matter. And, if it makes you feel any better, he didn't tell me voluntarily. I had to wring it out of him."

That seemed to calm her boyfriend a little, so she carried on. "And speaking of Sam, he called the house around lunch, looking for you… and he was sounding depressed. So, when I got the message after I got home, I called him back. But he said he couldn't tell me and he needed to talk to you. So, I'm thinking it has to do with that skank he's dating."

"Lopez?" Puck asked, eyebrows furrowed. "Nah! She's cool. Did he say anything else?"

"Just that it was," Quinn brought her fingers up to make air-quotes. "A 'guy-thing', whatever that means."

Puck hummed, wondering what could be bothering his bro.

"So, you gonna call him?" Quinn prodded.

"Uh, yeah. 'Course," Puck said.

Then, breaking out into a smirk, he looked at Quinn and said, "I thought he tells you _everything!"_

Quinn looked offended, before schooling her features into stoic exasperation. Her 'Im-dealing-with-imbeciles' face; Puck imagined she must use it a lot while at work. Those kids could be a handful. One day filling in for a construction worker talking about his job and Puck NEVER wanted to go back.

"I love my brother and I'm not going to push him. Just you wait, he will tell me when he's ready. But, for now, he needs to talk to you," Quinn sighed, condescending voice from two seconds ago forgotten. "So, would you please just go call him to see what he needs?"

Puck kissed her on the forehead and lifted her off his lap, heading toward the phone to call her brother; leaving Quinn to wonder what to do about dinner. There was no way _in hell_ she was serving Mac & Cheese to _Kurt Hummel_. She'd have to make something fancy and make it _fast. _Thank God Bethy was already in bed, this would be _so _hard otherwise.

Puck, after having tried Sam's cell about seven times, had decided to go out looking for him, promising to be back in about a half hour if he couldn't find him. It wasn't like Sam to not answer his phone, so both he and his girlfriend were understandably worried.

Quinn, meanwhile, had started working on the tuna she had purchased upon whim earlier that day to make grilled stakes in the Tuscan style, hoping Kurt would enjoy it. The same Kurt who had been in the bathroom for almost twenty minutes now.

After another five or six minutes, halfway through setting plates, she got worried about the superstar. Something had to be up. It didn't take that look for most _women_ to _shower_. And Kurt had just gone in to clean up a bit.

She padded to the bathroom and knocked on the door as lightly as she could manage. "Mr. Hummel? You okay in there?"

There was no response.

"Kurt?" She tried again.

"Yeah," came the strangled reply. "Sorry. I'll be out in a bit."

He was _crying. _It was unmistakable.

Quinn pursed her lips. "Can I come in?" she asked.

The doorknob turned and unlocked and Quinn slowly walked into the bright bathroom where Kurt was standing in front of the basin wistfully staring at his reflection in the mirror, his cheeks streaked with tears and his breath coming in short gasps. It broke her heart to see him like that.

True, she hadn't known him personally until less than an hour ago, but she had practically worshipped him for so long that watching him break was painful. Too painful.

Sure, he had made her cry before but that was on screen… when his performance made her feel like she was living it, but with the screen cutting her off from the actual pain his character must be feeling. Now though, there was no screen. No shield. And empathy was a cruel bitch. And it hurt all the more because he was standing right there, yet somehow untouchable because she was _essentially _a stranger to him and she didn't even know why he was upset.

His eyes downcast, he said in a barely audible whisper, "I'm sorry about this. Imposing on you and then letting you see me like this."

She wanted to say something. _It's no trouble at all _or _please don't cry _or _something _but her voice was gone and she couldn't make a peep.

"God, I shouldn't even be here," he said, slightly disgusted, probably at himself. "I should be heading off to a honeymoon in Paris… _why _couldn't I _just_ have kept quiet?"

'Honeymoon?' Quinn thought. 'What?'

And then she remembered it. _Shit._ He had run out of his wedding, hadn't he? _That's _what the tux was for. Kurt Hummel was to marry Dr. Blaine Carver, renowned cardio-vascular surgeon in NYC. It's all Hollywood had talked about for _months. _But wasn't that like two weeks away?

Had they pulled it up? When? And why had no one told her?

It was Kurt's voice that brought her back to the present. "Oh no, don't cry! I didn't mean to upset you! Please don't cry!" he said, walking up to her with a purpose.

As he offered her his handkerchief, she realized her eyes were in fact wet and then, through bleary eyes, she noticed that the handkerchief offered was monogrammed E. H.

She looked up at him quizzically.

"Elizabeth Hummel," he said pitifully. "It was my mother's. It was gonna be my something borrowed."

Quinn smiled and closed his fingers around the offered handkerchief, politely rejecting it. She knew the history. His mother had died when he was four. Leukemia. Her handkerchief should not be used to dry her tears of all people; she didn't think she was worthy.

Wiping her tears hastily on the back of her hands instead, she offered him a wry smile and said, "I should be the one trying to console you. Not the other way around."

Kurt stiffened for a ghost of a second before saying, "You can't console someone for something that is entirely their own fault."

"Well, what if I said that it can't be your fault, because you can do no wrong," Quinn said in a weak attempt at humor.

Kurt smiled a little. "I'd say it'd still be my fault for getting into a half-hearted engagement in the first place."

Quinn didn't know what to say to that exactly. So, she took his hands in her own and said, "Well, mistakes are just that and the great thing about them, once we've acknowledged them, is that we learn never to repeat them. Either way, you're about six hours from home and it's not smart to make spur-of-the-moment decisions when you're upset. So, what do you say we have dinner, watch a movie and then put you in bed, and you can make plans in the morning?"

Kurt smiled. "Thank you, Quinn. I needed that."

Quinn patted his hands. "Now I hope you like tuna because that's what I made. If I knew you were coming… well, in all honesty I'd probably be catatonic and not be able to cook anything! But if I had had some more time I could have made something more special but I promise to make you something amazing tomorrow if you decide to stay for a bit."

Kurt smiled. "That's okay, Quinn. You really didn't need to, I'm used to eating like a bird when I'm on tour. And I couldn't possibly impose on you guys any longer than one night."

Quinn frowned. "What makes you think you're imposing? Do you _know _how much I adore you? Even now, my heart is pounding so loud they can probably hear it all the way in Mexico," here she blushed. "Oh god, I didn't mean to say that out loud." After an awkward pause she continued. "So please say you'll stay because you wouldn't be imposing. Far from it, actually. Besides, tomorrow being a Sunday, I can spend the whole day with you and how many girls can say they spent the weekend with a superstar? It'd be like, the best day _ever. _Please don't deny me that," she finished with a pout.

It took another five minutes of convincing before Kurt finally agreed to stay and explained that he didn't really have much of an option since he had no means of transportation and it's not like he was carrying his wallet at the moment. Again, not his brightest idea ever.

When Quinn asked him where he was headed exactly, he said, quite honestly, that he didn't have a destination in mind; but it wasn't until after dinner was served and the pair was waiting for Puck to return that he realized that he might've been headed to his hometown in Ohio. Lima.

The place where he had been born, where he had learned to ride a bike. The place where he had had to leave after his career took off. The place where his mother was buried. The only place in the entire world where he felt most at home.

Belatedly, he realized that maybe it was her memory that had called him back. Or maybe she was trying to stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life by marrying Blaine and had somehow orchestrated his pit-stop in Johnstown, PA to show him that there were other things in life than marrying a pretense out of the lingering insecurity that he would never find anyone who loved him more.

They had taken her gardenias when they moved to NY but her spirit, it seemed, had stayed back home. Or maybe it was in his heart… wherever he went?

When Puck returned with a moping Sam it was a quarter to eight. Kurt, by now, had been introduced _twice _to a sleeping Beth Fabray Puckerman. But a girl, even a mother, could only coo for so long at a sleeping baby before she got hungry, as Quinn proved the second Puck had the front door open.

"Where _were _you?" she pounced on him. "Did it completely escape you that we _have a guest?"_

When her eyes fell on Sam, however, she calmed down almost _immediately._

"Aw honey, what happened?" she pulled him into a hug.

"Santana," the blond man mumbled.

Quinn shot a death glare at Puck, her face saying _"I told you so"_ and her eyes saying _"Wait until I get you alone tonight…"_

Puck was trapped between being terrified, turned on and sad for the sake of his best bro.

Kurt thought dinner was going to be a quiet affair, and he was perfectly happy with that knowledge, until Puck decided to shake open the can of worms that was his best friend's recent break-up.

It was just that Kurt was in no position right now to offer condolences to the blond (who intimidated him just the tiniest bit, if he was honest) and sympathizing was ironically very hard to do when you were actually going through the same thing as the other person. What was he supposed to say anyway? _Sorry about your girlfriend moving out and taking all your stuff, but I can tell you this is not the end. You'll find love again. I'm sure you will._

But he wasn't sure was he? How could he be considering he didn't even know at this point if _happily ever after_ was a carefully fabricated lie and _until you find your soul mate _was just the first half of the sentence _or until you get run over by a bus, whichever comes first. _

What if you only got the one chance and both he and the handsome blond sitting next to him had screwed it up?

Then Sam opened his mouth to speak.

"I was so stupid. I let this happen when I could've just kicked her out after our first night together," he said, breathing hard.

"Why did I let her trick me into thinking that this could actually go somewhere? Why couldn't I just play it like Puck and never have called her back? That's what girls like her deserve anyway! But I had to be the gentleman! I just _had_ to call her back and have lunch with her and buy her flowers and shit!

"You know, in all the time we've been together she never once let me order the dessert I liked? It was always about what she wanted. And I had to have what she was having because she didn't want me to miss out and it was just _so damn romantic," _he scoffed. "Lying bitch. There's no such thing as romance is there? Because there's no such thing as love! This is exactly why I didn't want to get married. It's a sham. The whole foundation of marriage is a lie."

He was getting up from his chair when Quinn said, "Sam, honey calm down."

"No!" he screamed at her. "You know you guys are _damn lucky _that you're not married and if you ever…"

"Sam, stop, Bethy's asleep," Quinn tried to calm her brother; "You'll wake her."

"So now you're throwing your happy life in my face huh sis? That's just fantastic! Here, I just got screwed over by a chick who realized she's a lesbian because your man couldn't keep it in his pants and now you're telling me to shut up. That's classic, Quinn…"

"Dude, don't talk to my girlfriend like that-" Puck started.

"Stay out of this Puckerman," Sam yelled. "You should've never introduced me to that whore. How do I know you're not still screwing her?"

"Sam, listen to yourself," Quinn gasped. She lowered her voice, "We have a guest."

"Translation: Nobody cares about you Sammy, so shut the fuck up," Sam smirked. "Right?"

No one said anything.

"Damn homos," Sam said in an undertone as he pushed past Quinn back into the kitchen. But Kurt was faster. And the slap rang loud and clear.

"I don't know what happened to you to make you so bitter," Kurt ground out. "But your sister loves you, God knows why, and she was only trying to help. So you will apologize to her _right now_, or so help me you will regret it."

The slap had _stung _and Sam was just about punch back when he looked up to meet Kurt's eyes. His cheeks were flushed and wet from all the crying and Sam was speechless. He hadn't even noticed how powerful Kurt's face was. How expressive. And those green eyes cut right through to his very core.

Slowly, he turned around to face Quinn, who still had her palm pressed against her mouth in shock, and said he was sorry. Quinn nodded and quietly led Kurt back to the table. Next, Sam apologized to Puck, who just glared at him before heading back to join his girlfriend and Kurt.

Sam knew he was no longer welcome and was just about to leave, when his sister asked him if he was having any trouble finding his way back to the dining table. He looked up to see them looking at him expectantly with their forks ready, waiting for him to take his seat. Even the guy who'd slapped him. Kurt, Sam thought his name was.

"Y-you guys still want me to join you?" he managed to ask.

"Despite your terrible table manners, your atrociously twisted take on the existence of love and your obviously incorrect theories about marriage and what it entails, yes, we would. Now if you could just park it," Kurt finished.

Quinn giggled, Puck smirked, Sam just looked on in confusion and asked his sister, "Is this guy for real?"

Kurt huffed, "More that you'll ever be!"

Sam quirked his eyebrows, "Is that so?"

Kurt nodded smugly.

"Well, at least I'm not stupid enough to believe in the lie that is marriage."

"That's because you're not smart enough to understand the significance of it," Kurt replied, without missing a beat.

"And I suppose you are?" Sam challenged. "Then why don't you teach me?"

"Because, I don't believe in unnecessarily wasting my breath on the ignoramuses of the world," Kurt countered.

"Doesn't that make you a bigot though? Denying the ignoramuses the chance to learn about love?" Sam asked.

"No, it makes you a hypocrite, conveniently acknowledging love's existence only to suit your needs," Kurt was unstoppable, Quinn and Puck noticed.

"Yeah," Sam was stumped. "Well at least I'm not dressed like a freak out of Cirque du Soleil."

"And I'm," Kurt looked up from his plate to meet Sam's gaze. So warm and inviting (_just like Blaine's_, his mind offered). He looked back down at his plate, then up to his hosts, and sighed before saying, "I'm not very hungry."

And with that, he excused himself from the table.


	6. The EverInconclusive Debate

AN : It's been a while huh? Well if you guys are still reading this(*fingers crossed* please please PLEASE still be reading this) HAPPY CHAPTER 6! Thanks to everyone who reviewed my last chapter and asked for more. I hope this satisfies you for now.

Pairing(s) - Kurt/Sam, Kurt/Blaine, Finn/Rachel, Quinn/Puck  
Rating: K+ just to be safe  
Summary: My take on the Kum romantic comedy that never was but definitely shoulda been  
Disclaimer: list of things I wish I owned. New ipod, iphone4, a nightclub, a new guitar, glee.

So… is it too early to look for a secret santa?  
Warnings: slightly ooc Sam, but that's only cuz he's still hurtin'. He'll get better, I _think._**  
**WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? **  
**chapter 6

It both surprised and worried him how easily he had managed to cram a lifetime's worth of tears into one evening.

He had cried so many times today that he wouldn't be surprised if people thought he was pregnant and hence hormonal. It was sad, but true and as he looked up at the stars wishing he could stop soon, Kurt Hummel felt more helpless than ever before.

The warm hand on his shoulder was comforting; and just like that, Puck had taken on the role of the late Burt Hummel as he gently offered Kurt a generously filled plate and said "Eat," in a voice that sounded uncannily like his dad.

Kurt was about to protest when the mohawked man took a seat next to him in the small balcony and put his arm around him, saying, for no apparent reason, "I'll keep you warm."

Normally, Kurt was not a touchy-feely kinda guy. But this was strangely comforting for Kurt. Even the sweaty musk of an unwashed Puck after a hard day's work couldn't throw him off. On the contrary, it made him feel safe, protected. Near invincible.

So, as Puck reached out to wipe his tears with his thumb, Kurt smiled gratefully, turning to look at his food. It looked inviting and he _had _after all, not had anything to eat since yesterday; not to mention, Quinn had gone to so much trouble for him and it would be an insult to her to let it all go to waste. So, his smile growing genuine, he took the offered fork in Puck's right hand and muttered a silent "Thank you."

Puck smiled and it was warm, comparable even to those he kept reserved for his two special girls. It should have scared him how easily this kid was growing on him. He was already loathe to the idea of anything making Kurt cry. And that did mean _anything; _Sam and his fists would be having a little chat after he was done making sure Kurt was okay.

Kurt was already like a little sister to him (of course he'd never say that out loud). The boy reminded him so much of his baby sister Sarah that it actually hurt. God, he wished she could've been here to see him today. She and Quinn would have gotten along nicely that was for sure. Not to mention, Beth would've ended up with a cool aunt, because hot or not, Emma Fabray had a sequoia stuck up her ass.

"I'm not usually like this," Kurt's voice brought him back to reality.

"No I know," Puck said, feigning understanding. "Just once a month, right?"

Kurt's eyes widened and he shoved Puck none too gently, rubbing his temples exasperatedly as Puck burst out laughing. "Why do I keep letting my guard down around you?"

Puck, still trying to control his laughter, put his arm around his boy and pulled him close, "Hey, come on now! You know I care about you; wouldn't be out here in this damn cold if I didn't. So tell me what's eating you."

Kurt hadn't even realized how cold it was outside and he quickly felt guilty for dragging the trucker out here.

"You should go back inside," Kurt started.

"And deal with that prick?" Puck cut him off. "Nah. I'm better off letting Quinn take care of him."

"He's your friend and he needs you," Kurt stated calmly. "Besides, I'm sure he didn't mean to yell at you guys."

"Why are you defending him?" Puck asked, an eyebrow quirked. "He was a total dick to you back there."

"I'm not," Kurt said, blushing.

"Puck looked at him incredulously. "You gotta be kidding me!"

"What?" Kurt asked, sitting up straighter. "Look, I just get what he's going through okay. His girlfriend ran out on him so I get that he's pissed and while that doesn't justify his actions, I can't fault him for wanting to vent to the people who are closest to his heart."

"You _like _him, don't you?" Puck was smirking.

"No!" Kurt said, too quickly.

Puck's grin grew bigger.

"NO! OKAY?" Kurt said, indignant. "It's just that…"

He set his plate down and stood up, moving to the edge of the railings. "I did the same thing," his voice was barely above a whisper.

When Puck didn't reply, he continued. "To Blaine."

Realization dawned on Puck. He quickly got with every intention of hugging the smaller male, something Puckzilla didn't usually do, especially not with other dudes. But Kurt wasn't done.

"I just left him there," Kurt was crying again. "After everything we've been through. I just… _abandoned_ him. After promising to marry him; to spend the rest of my life with him and him alone. After promising to grow old with him." His tears were falling in earnest now.

Puck pulled him in. "Hey, hey! It's not your fault. You did the right thing... he wasn't going to make you happy."

Kurt pulled away to look him in the eyes. "But how could I have known that for sure? I didn't even give him a fighting chance, did I?"

Puck sighed. "You gave him plenty chances Little Dude, if he didn't make you happy then…"

"You don't get it Noah," Kurt mewled. "When I was a kid, I had this fantasy; that a dark-haired prince would carry me off into the sunset. My mom would read the old fairytales to me and she never made let me question myself. Hell, she practically had a wedding dress picked out for me. She always treated me like a princess and used to say I was perfect just the way I was. Same with my dad."Kurt shivered, so Puck pulled him in closer.

"So, for years I harbored that fantasy and lived it everyday; even though I didn't understand anything about marriage or love. But then, everything changed. Mom got sick and dad started losing sleep until one night, mom literally died in dad's arms. And," Kurt gulped for air, his throat clenching up. "For whatever sick, twisted reason, when I saw dad skip work the next day just to hold on to mom's corpse; _that _became my new fantasy. Maybe it's gross for some people but I saw it as a testament to their love. Just the fact that dad couldn't… _wouldn't _let go, it was just something else, you know?"

Puck hummed his approval.

"And, and I promised Blaine that. That I would die in his arms and no one else's. And heaven knows he'd never want out of the marriage and he'd hold on to me just like dad held on to mom. But then… then I went and broke that promise. Both to him and to myself. And _I had the gall _to talk to Sam about marriage and it's virtues.

"What makes me such a damn expert? Who died and gave me permission to lecture others when I couldn't even go through with my own?"

"Hey, hey…" Puck let him go to look in his eyes. "Listen to me, it doesn't count as a failed marriage if you ran out on the wedding. And you're allowed to be…" Puck fished for the right word.

"Selfish?" Kurt supplied.

"Picky," Puck corrected. "When you're thinking about spending the rest of your life with someone."

"But Sam,"

"Is a big boy," Puck cut him off. "He can deal with this with some help from us, and it's not your problem to worry about in the first place. Besides, if Lopez turned out to be a lesbian, then I say our boy dodged a bullet. I just wish she'd left an address so we could stalk her and watch."

Kurt sighed.

"It was a joke," Puck clarified. "Don't tell her I said this, but Quinn's the only gal I got my eyes on."

Kurt looked at him with adoration, before his eyes went wide again.

"Oh God, I can't go back in there!"

"And why the hell not?"

"I can't look at Sam again without thinking about Blaine," Kurt admitted. "He must hate me right now."

"Who Sam? Nah he's not usually like this at all," Puck shrugged. "Boy don't hold no grudges. And 'sides, I'll totally kick his ass if he picks on my Little Dude."

The arm around him was warm and Kurt didn't feel like pointing out that he was actually talking about Blaine. So, instead he just chose to play along, saying "Oh, whatever would I do without you?"

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X

Meanwhile, inside the living room, Quinn was busy telling her brother off while simultaneously comforting him and telling him that everything would (eventually) be alright.

She wasn't succeeding at either. All she really did was confuse the blond even more than usual.

"So…" Sam tried to make sure he was hearing right while helping his sister clear the plates. "You _wanted _me to propose?"

"Oh God, no!" Quinn sighed. "Have you been listening to a word I've said?"

Sam shrugged.

"Look, Sammy," Quinn tried again after taking a deep breath. "I didn't ever think she was right for you, so the news that she's gone… eh, doesn't bother me much. I mean I get that you're hurting and I want you to know that I am here for you one hundred percent. But, honey, in all honesty, you can do so much better. And that brings me to my next point. Why are you so… opposed to the idea of marriage?"

"That's just it," Sam sighed. "I'm opposed to marriage. Period. Not the idea of it. But you and this Kurt dude, you guys seem to be so in love with the idea of getting married even though neither of you has ever been there. Who's to say you won't hate it? I mean, God forbid, but who's to say that if you and Puck got married today, that you guys would stick it out for good?

"Why do I need marriage to validate my love for… whoever? Things don't always work out the way we want them to, right? You taught me that remember? So why hold on to this false sense of security and keep lying to myself saying, 'Dude, chill, it'll all work out once you're married.' I mean come on, that's just plain stupid…"

"Sam, you're doing it again," Quinn warned.

"Hear me out okay?" Sam shushed her. "And then there's you and Kurt, never been married and giving me a thesis on what's good for me and what isn't. Who does he think he is, anyway?" Sam was out of his seat and blushing with what Quinn could only assume was righteous indignation. "What gives him the right to make snap judgments about my view of life? Has he ever been married?"

"He just ran out on his wedding," Quinn stated, bluntly.

That shut Sam up. For a second.

"No shit!" Sam muttered.

Quinn frowned in reply.

"Him?" Sam inquired, incredulously. "Mr. I'm-So-Much-Better-Than-You-Because-I-Believe-In-The-Holy-Constitution-Of-Marriage? What? Did they try to send him off with a girl? I didn't even know they _could _get married… which, I'll be honest, is what pissed me off about him lecturing me in the first place."

Quinn took a deep breath and then thumped her brother soundly upside the head. "What is wrong with you?"

Sam shrugged, "What?"

"You know for someone who's just been dumped by the 'love of his life', you sure are peppy," Quinn stated, brandishing a fork. "And don't talk like that, unless you wanna go home with a fork stuck in your head."

"Please," Sam dismissed her "Like you could ever hit a target!"

Quinn smirked. "I know, which is why you wouldn't want me to miss," Quinn's gaze moved southward.

"Okay okay," Sam sighed. "I'm sorry I was a dick. But you're crazy if you think I'm ever gonna let him live this down."

"Let who live what down?" Puck asked as he walked into the living room, trailed by Kurt.

Sam gulped audibly, looking at Kurt and his windswept hair. His luminous outfit made his eyes shine a thousand times brighter and while Sam wasn't particularly poetic, he had a sudden urge to write a sonnet about the smaller boy.

"Nothing… I, uh should," Sam tried. Upon noticing Kurt's wet eyes, he did the only thing he could think of, or rather _couldn't_. He tripped over his feet and fell. Right next to Kurt's feet.

And while Puck laughed and Quinn, sniggering, ran up to help; it was Kurt who reached down for him and condemned him to hell. It was cruelly ironic how Kurt's wet eyes made his beauty that much more obvious to him and made him swear never to make the boy cry ever again and he could only stare as two words escaped his lips. "I'm sorry!"

Kurt's awkward smile made his entire night.


End file.
